


Masterminds

by Noelleian



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: AU, Crack, Gen, Humor, Pseudoscience, mentions of blood and death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 15:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11671524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noelleian/pseuds/Noelleian
Summary: Une and Zechs join forces with Doctor J to attempt the unthinkable. What could possibly go wrong?





	Masterminds

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! My apologies for the delay in updates. I am trying, but it's really difficult right now. Your authoress is going through The Change. *dun dun dunnnnnn* What does that mean? Well, massive mood swings, excessive crying, general lack of focus and direction, blah blah blah. I'm hoping my doctor can hook me up and get me on some hormones soon and then I'll be able to concentrate again.
> 
> Anyway, this was an old drabble that I decided to revise after amyole on Tumblr reblogged it again, which I thank you very much for. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The notion that there was life after death had always been an intriguing possibility in Lady Une’s humble opinion. It was actually rather enjoyable to ponder the seemingly infinite ways that one’s soul, or spirit survived the trauma of physical death and traveled outside the confines of time and three-dimensional space to worlds that defied the laws of physics. **  
**

After being shot by that son of a bitch, Duke Dermail, she’d been given a harsh reality check about her own mortality for the first time in her life. It was almost as if God Himself had descended from Heaven and whacked her upside the head with a loving, yet austere, “Wake the fuck up, you stupid bitch.”

When Treize died, there was a gut-wrenching realization that neither of them were as infallible as they’d always believed. In her mind, the message was clear: Get your shit together, or you’re going to wind up floating through space as nothing more than a few specks of frozen ash.

If nothing else, Treize’s death and the subsequent end of the war was a silver lining for Une. Her grief allowed her time to turn her focus inward and lo and behold, a little dose of self-reflection was just what the doctor ordered. The idea that even though Treize was gone, he may not have been  _completely_  gone was a comforting thought during those nights when sleep eluded her troubled mind. What was it like to explore limitless realities? To transcend even the most vivid concepts concocted by the brilliant, yet cosmically scanty human imagination?

“Alright, here we go.”

Her wandering brain was abruptly brought back down to earth by the reedy voice just off to her right. She glanced over to see the old man position a steel gurney just below a massive surgeon lamp that descended from its mount in the ceiling.

On the gurney, a body was laid out beneath a pristine white sheet and Une experienced something akin to the ‘heebie-jeebies’ as she stared at the still and silent shape of the man who’d once held the earth and the colonies in the palm of his hand.

There was a brief moment of hesitation. Of second guessing. Were they doing the right thing? Was this even possible? What if they were successful, but instead of the Treize they all knew and loved to hate, something much worse took his place? What if they wound up unleashing a zombie Treize onto the world which would inevitably lead to an apocalypse of the dead devouring the living? What if they brought him back and he became furious because he’d finally found a universe he could conquer?

For some odd reason, it was that last possibility she was the most worried about.

Still, out of all of her musings and late-night ponderings of an afterlife, something like this had never even occurred to her. And such a concept was never more repugnant than it was now as Doctor J pulled the sheet back and revealed the gaunt, yet hauntingly familiar face of the man she’d once risked her life for.

The idea was so simplistic, yet unfathomable. Maniacal by its very nature. The kind of thing that could only come from the ravings of a madman.  _Then again_ , she conceded as the old quack rubbed his hands together like cartoon villain in the midst of a dastardly plan,  _if the shoe fits..._

Bringing Treize back to life was such an absurd, over-the-top, Frankenstein’s monster-esque concept that she almost felt like she was suspended in some alternate reality because this? This was as far from normal and sane as one could get.

 _If I leave my grin behind, remind me that we’re all mad here.  
_ _And that’s okay..._

She’d forgotten how vile the smell of death was. Embalming fluid worked long enough to get through the funeral and burial proceedings, but after that, not even the best preservation methods were enough to stave off nature’s inevitable decay. She unfurled her cravat and pressed the cream colored silk against her nose and mouth as the Italian pasta salad she had for lunch began to churn queasily in her belly. “What do you think, Doctor?”

The old man, who was bent over to examine Treize’s body, straightened and flipped up the magnifying lens that was attached to his goggles. “Well, he’s dead.”

Une’s mouth twisted as the mad scientist cackled at his joke, though to her, it sounded more like a hacking cough.  _God help me, I’m surrounded by morons._ She watched as J picked up a scalpel and took an involuntary step backwards. “What are you doing?”

J pressed the tip of the scalpel against the side of Treize’s neck and nicked the flesh with a practiced twist of his bony wrist. “If we’re going to bring him back to life, he needs blood first.”

“And just what are you planning to use for blood?” Her voice, though tinged with revulsion was muffled as she spoke through the fabric she held over her face.  _If you think you’re taking mine, you have another thing coming, Mister._

J’s tongue poked out from between graying teeth as he shoved his thumb and index finger into the incision he’d just made. “We have an abundance of his blood left over in cold storage that he saved in case he needed it and we were able to clone his DNA to synthesize more.” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a sound of mild irritation. “If I can just locate the jugular vein, then we can - aha! There you are, you little devil.”

Une grunted in acknowledgement, a little miffed that she hadn’t known that. “And then what?”

J reached for the narrow plastic tube that was coiled on the little metal tool stand beside him and gently threaded it into the incision between his thumb and index finger. Attached to the other end of the tube was a machine about the size of a portable radio and when Une leaned over the table to get a closer look, she spotted a dozen clear plastic bags filled with blood hanging beneath.

J pressed a small button at the base of the machine and grinned like a shark as it hummed to life. It was quite soothing, reminding Une of the old window fans her mother used to cool their house during the sweltering summers in southern France when she was a young girl. She watched the blood drain from the bags, rise up the tube, and disappear into Treize’s body with a sense of morbid fascination. “I’ll be damned.”

“What about his brain?” Zechs asked from beside her. Until now, he’d been so quiet that she’d forgotten he was even there. The platinum-haired prince had also pulled out his cravat to ward off the stench of rotting flesh and when he spoke, his voice sounded comically nasal.

J picked up a narrow syringe and twiddled it between his thumb and forefinger. It was filled to the halfway point with a yellow liquid that made Une think of piss. “My own little secret ingredient,” the old man wheezed with a proud flash of his rotting teeth. “Concocted by the most brilliant of minds that I -”

“Just tell us what it is, Doctor. No need for theatrics.”

J grumbled and popped the cap off the needle with a flick of his thumb. “It causes a chemical reaction when it encounters dead cells. It takes the genetic material left behind and creates identical, living cells to take their place. Everything from blood, to skin, to hair, to bone, to internal organs.”

He stepped to the side and waved his hand towards another contraption that looked to Une like some souped up Xerox machine. “Using this machine, I will start the artificial heart that I’ve already implanted inside his chest. Once it begins circulating the blood, I will inject him with this.” He grinned and swiped his hand in front of the syringe in a manner that made Une think of game show spokes models showing off a shiny new convertible.

The old man’s teeth gleamed under the bright surgical light as he added, “As it travels through his bloodstream, it will glean the genetic code from his dead cells and regenerate new ones. Soon he will have living flesh, organs, skin...”

“And his brain?” Zechs repeated.

“Hypothetically speaking.”

Une narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean ‘hypothetically speaking’? Haven’t you done this before?”

J scratched his nose. “According to my calculations, it should reanimate his brain similar to how it was when he was alive. But -”

“Similar?”

“Yes, but -”

“But what?”

“Testing these theories on paper is one thing, but in the real world, it doesn’t always lead to the same results.”

Une dropped her cravat and barked, “Fine time to tell us this now, Doctor.”

J propped his hands on his hips and snarled. “If I’m not mistaken, Milady, I was summoned here upon your order and if my memory serves me, you are not the most patient of people.”

“I summoned you here on the belief that you knew what you were doing!”

“I do know what I’m doing,” J shouted back, startling both Une and Zechs into silence. He took a deep breath and then blew it out in a hoarse whistle. “Besides, if I was to experiment with other cadavers first, you’d be waiting at least another year to bring your beloved boss back to life.”

Une pointed a warning finger at the old man. “You’d better be damned right about this, or I’ll use your head for a hood ornament.”

J seemed to take the threat in stride and gestured towards the gurney. “May I get back to work now?”

She folded her arms over his chest and glowered at him. “Be my guest. But don’t fuck this up. If he wakes up any different than the man I knew, I’m crushing both his skull and yours.”

“Fair enough,” J replied, plucking the tube from Treize’s neck and reaching for a needle and thread. “I’ve successfully drained the formaldehyde and replaced it with blood. Stage one is complete. Now onto stage two.”

“What’s stage two?” Zechs asked.

“We start the artificial heart.”

“Is this when he stops stinking?”

Une scowled at her associate and snapped, “Have some respect, you pompous pouf.”

Zechs’ blue eyes gleamed with malicious glee. “Oh, so you’re saying I should also desecrate the dead by ordering a gruesome, experimental seance in the hopes of starting off a zombie apocalypse? You mean that kind of respect?”

“And yet, here you are for this one,” she reminded him.

Zechs sniffed beneath the fabric of his cravat. “This is your pet project. I’m just here for the sideshow.”

“You are such an asshole, you know that?”

“Shut up, both of you,” J snapped. The quarreling duo sneered at each other and turned to the old man as he delicately traced a gnarled finger down the vertical line of stitches that ran the length of Treize’s chest. “In a moment, I will start the heart and then...I will inject him with this,” he swiped his hand in front of the syringe again and smiled toothily.

“Will you stop that,” Une barked. “Quit peddling your abomination of a…of a…dead bringer backer.”

“Is that the scientific term, Colonel?” Zechs simpered.

She narrowed her eyes at him and pointed at Treize’s body. “Anymore snide comments out of you and you’ll be next on that gurney.”

Zechs held her gaze in challenge for a moment and then looked away. Bluffing or not, he was in no mood to test her patience.

J started up the pump and flipped on a large monitor that was mounted on the wall. As the screen came to life, they were treated to the stunning sight of Treize’s beating heart, up close and personal. “There it is. Look at that,” the doctor whispered. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Zechs rubbed his cravat against his nose, his voice nasally when he asked, “Where did you get that thing?”

J shrugged and popped a toothpick into his mouth. “Ebay. Free shipping.” He watched the monitor for another moment, then turned back around and picked up the syringe. “Alright, everything’s a go. Prepare to watch the magic happen.”

Une and Zechs reeled back as he savagely plunged the needle into Treize’s chest, the sound of it piercing the bone enough to cause Zechs to turn a sickly shade of green and waver on his feet. J muttered a humorless, “Wuss,” and then pressed the plunger down, injecting the piss-yellow liquid into the dead commander’s body.

The effect was gradual. So gradual that at first, it didn’t appear to have worked. Une had a mouthful of colorful insults and expletives waiting ardently to roll off her tongue, but she swallowed them down when J lifted a hand. Her eyes followed the line of his pointing finger, shock causing her breath to catch in her throat.  _What the Hell?_

“Look,” the old geezer rasped. “Do you see that?”

The dehydrated and sloughed skin on Treize’s forehead was glowing a faint pink and right before their very eyes, the flesh began to plump, adopting a smooth, life-like appearance. With each passing moment, the ghastly white skin regained more and more color as the new cells replicated and pulsed with life. His dull, limp hair sprung up by the roots lock by lock, beginning to resemble the luxurious, auburn waves that Une used to love running her fingers through. 

Her throat squeezed with a rush of emotion, but she managed to croak, “Am I - am I actually seeing this?”

J clapped his hands together and bounced on the balls of his feet like a child on Christmas morning. “It’s working! By God, it’s working. Look!”

The faint pink glow spread down Treize’s temples, his cheeks and neck. It continued its descent over his chest and arms, and then finally to his legs and feet, systematically reversing the effects of decomposition.

“Holy shit,” Zechs whispered and Une glanced over to see him clutching the counter top behind him as if he was trying to keep himself upright. His other hand was pressed over his mouth and above it, his eyes looked ready to pop out of their sockets. He shook his head and mumbled between his fingers, “You did it. You crazy old bastard, I can’t believe you did it.”

J threw his head back and howled with triumph, his arms spread out to the sides and his white lab coat hanging like an over-sized tarp from his skeletal frame.

In less than five minutes, Treize looked as alive as the lab’s living occupants. Une reached out and brushed her finger along his forearm before quickly yanking her hand back.

“What?” Zechs asked, looking more than a little freaked out as he stepped towards her. “What is it?”

“He’s...he’s warm,” she breathed, rubbing her thumb against the pad of her finger. She glanced up at the old man, the hushed compliment spilling from her lips before she was even aware of it. “That’s…amazing!” She couldn’t believe the old quack had actually done it.

J preened under the praise. Genuinely impressing the notoriously unimpressionable Lady Une was no easy feat. About as likely as spotting a leprechaun riding side-saddle on a purple unicorn.

A loud hiss escaped from Treize’s mouth and J held up a hand as both Une and Zechs jumped back in surprise. “Relax. He’s just breathing.”

He paused and then slowly lifted his head, his mouth falling open as the reality of the situation finally clicked. He’d just brought someone back to life. He’d done what no one else before him was able to do. 

In all of his years of playing God, testing the boundaries of human discovery and ingenuity amidst the mad scramble of competition to be the first to reach the pinnacle, the crème de la crème, the Holy Grail of scientific achievement, he’d just been awarded the grand prize.

His bizarre little goggles flashed under the bright surgical lights as his tongue poked out and swiped across his trembling bottom lip. “He’s…breathing,” he said again, his voice hushed with awe.

Une and Zechs watched with arched brows as the old man raised his arms high into the air, threw his head back and bellowed, “He’s breathing! He’s… _alive!_  You hear that, Professor G? I beat you! You owe me five thousand credits and a bottle of Ripple, you bushy-haired prick!”

 

*******

 

 _'If I leave my grin behind, remind me that we’re all mad here._  
_And that’s okay…'_

_[Cheshire Kitten](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ueZo5i6GPg) by SJ Tucker_

_[My Tumblr](http://noelleian.tumblr.com/) _


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